


Sink Me in the River at Dawn

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Series: The Ballad of a Dove [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Forced Bonding, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>After his soul shatters, everything else seems to stop. Time. Motion. Energy. There's nothing left of him, not even his name, and so nothing else seems to move or matter.</i>
</p><p>The consequences of Lance’s decision are more far reaching than he realized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sink Me in the River at Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This installment is, as I told my beta, "a little linguistically complex," so I do not recommend reading it while sleep deprived, or otherwise low energy, though you are welcome to try. As always, a huge thank you to [Matt](http://corgiss.tumblr.com/) for the drive-by beta, and all remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> [Reblog from here!](http://hollyandvice.tumblr.com/post/147467999733/fic-sink-me-in-the-river-at-dawn) Fic and series titles from [If I Die Young by The Band Perry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NJqUN9TClM)

After his soul shatters, everything else seems to stop. Time. Motion. Energy. There's nothing left of him, not even his name, and so nothing else seems to move or matter. He doesn't walk when they lift him to his feet to go to the torture chamber, he doesn't spasm when they hurt his physical form, he doesn't scream when they tunnel into his brain and make their homes there. He's a dead man walking and he doesn't know why they're still dragging this out when they know he won't turn.

 _Maybe they want to see how far the human mind can be pushed,_ the little green voice in his head says.

 _Maybe they think you'll tell them something about Voltron. Don't tell them about Voltron!_ That's the yellow one, and Child feels a distant sort of twinge at the words, though he doesn't know what from or why.

 _Maybe they're just evil,_ the black voice says, and Child almost feels like laughing. Almost.

As usual, there's no word from the red voice in his head. He hasn't hallucinated the red voice in longer than he can remember. Maybe since the Galra dropped the body that broke him at his feet. Maybe before. Child isn't sure. Time stopped meaning anything a long time ago. 

Today when they bring him to the torture chamber, the Torturer isn't alone. There are two Galra with it, both in full armor, and Child wonders if they've finally given up and are going to kill him so he can be at peace with the rest of his team.

 **As you can see, Emperor,** the Torturer says, words silky smooth the way they always are when they crawl into his head, **the paladin is well and truly broken. No strength left to speak of, whether physical or mental. He will be unable to fight the ritual.**

"Excellent. You have done well K'tok," the biggest one says. The Torturer positively glows with the praise, and somewhere in the back of the child's mind, alarm bells start to go off. But he's too far gone to do anything about it, and if the ritual will end his pain, then they're right, he won't be able to fight it. In fact he'll welcome it. "Karala," the big one says.

The third occupant of the room moves toward the other two, bowing low. "Emperor."

"You are the only one that I can trust to keep the boy in line. Are you willing?"

"I am willing to do whatever it takes to keep the Empire great, Your Highness."

"A good answer. I shall leave you two to it, then, K'tok."

He watches idly as the big one slips out of the room. The Torturer grabs him by the chin, though, turning him around to face her. **Come,** it says, words sharp and harsh. **We must make you ready.**

Child lets himself be dragged back out of the torture room, mildly intrigued by the entourage they've acquired. Not intrigued enough to do anything about it, but the interest is definitely there.

When they make it to a large, grandiose chamber half an age later, the child actually finds himself looking around. There are banners hanging from the ceiling and tall portholes that let him see out into the wide open blackness of space. That same space in his chest twinges again, but the child just stares out into the blackness, wondering if it would swallow him whole if he looked long enough.

There's a snap of fingers right near his ear, and Child turns toward it automatically.

 **Come,** the Torturer says, and Child follows when it walks away.

They strip him, and the little red space in the back of his head lights up, but Child doesn't know why. They bathe him rather carelessly, and then they spread oils over his throat and wrists after they're done. They dress him in clothes that feel strange against his skin ( _Soft,_ the black voice says. _They're soft, L----._ ) and Child hums as he runs his fingers over the fabric.

One of the helpers slaps his hand away. Child drops his hands to his side, letting them move him as they need to in order to prepare him. Once he's dressed, he's handed a bitter drink that burns all the way down his throat. He drinks it without complaint, handing the goblet back to the Galra that had given it to him. They run something through his hair ( _A brush,_ the green voice says, _Come on, L----, it's a brush._ )

The strangest part might be when they put something in his mouth. It tastes strange ( _Sweet, it's sweet, L----, please--_ and it's the yellow voice that time but Child has stopped listening.) and it takes a moment for his body to remember how to chew, and then swallow. It isn't something he's done in a long time, left in the care of medically trained Druids that fed him intravenously rather than with solid food after he destroyed his soul. He doesn't remember any of that, of course, but he does remember that his mouth used to be able to chew and his throat used to be able to swallow, so he focuses on that motion instead of worrying or wondering about anything else.

Once he's managed to swallow whatever they put in his mouth, they lead him back into the chamber he'd initially been brought into, and he sees the other Galra from the torture room across the way. She's dressed differently, and she's embracing another Galra, but the two of them spring apart almost as soon as Child and his keepers round the corner. The new one is glowering at Child, and she says something sharp and harsh, speaking quickly enough that he doesn't understand the words.

"Easy, Priestess," one of Child's keepers says. "You volunteered for this. It would be in your best interest not to speak in such a tone.

Her eyes blaze as she glares at Child. It lasts for only an instant before she's turning to Child's keepers and bowing her head. "My apologies, sir." She doesn't sound very sorry.

"Carry on, then." The gloves on Child's hands are taken off and handed to him, and then he is taken to the two Galra. The one from the torture chamber reaches out to clasp his hands, her own hands bare. She smiles at him, and he tries to smile back, though he doesn't quite succeed. The new one makes a sound in the back of her throat, and when Child looks up at her, she looks… he doesn't have a word for the way she looks, and none of the voices in the back of his head seem to want to supply him with anything either. So he turns away and looks down at his hands where the other Galra has them clasped in her own.

The new Galra begins to speak, her words long and strange, and though Child tries to stay focused, he finds his eyes wandering over the room instead, idly intrigued by the space. The Galra continues to speak and speak and speak--Speaker, he dubs her idly--and it washes over Child, comforting and easy in a way that he hasn't known in too long.

Then his hands are squeezed, and he looks down at them, mildly surprised, before following them back up to the Galra whose hands are twined with his.

"This isn't how I envisioned my bonding day," she says, and Child can see something on her face that twists in his chest. He tilts his head to the side, but she doesn't say anything more. She doesn't have time to.

Speaker holds her hands out around where Child has his own hands clasped with the other one's, and then there's pain. Child can feel the pain bouncing around in his body and his brain, but it's nothing like what the Torturer used to subject him to. It's why the way the other one takes him by surprise when she screams and drops to her knees, dragging him down with her. The Speaker goes with them, her hands still hovering around theirs, a look on her face that makes Child's stomach go tight. Child tilts his head to the side looking between them.

"Hang on Karala," the Speaker says. There's something in her tone that catches Child's attention. "His soul is nearly completely shattered; I don't know _what_ K'tok and the Emperor were thinking trying to perform a bonding ceremony on him in this state. Just hang on, Karala, please, just hang on."

 _Oh,_ Child thinks idly. _That sounds like red voice when I'm hurt._ He files that thought away with all the other ones he doesn't think he'll ever touch again, uninterested in where it might lead.

The other's hands tighten around his, and he tightens his grip in kind, the pain still flickering at the back of his mind. Then, just as suddenly as the pain had began, it stops. The other releases his hands. Laboriously, she replaces the gloves and then, as though all her energy has been stolen from her, she collapses to the ground, shaking and sobbing. The Speaker drops to her knees beside the other--Partner, his mind quietly supplies--and wraps Partner up in her arms.

"Oh, god, Zheerun," Partner sobs, and Child tilts his head to the side. "He's… he's so broken, Zheerun. How is he even still alive?"

Speaker presses Partner's head against her chest, shushing her. "It's okay, Karala. It's just until the other paladins get here, then he'll crush them all and you and I can--"

"It's forever, Zheerun. I felt it when we bonded. I don't think either of us will survive the bond breaking. I'm certain I won't."

Child tilts his head to the side, watching them as he replaces his own gloves, mimicking Partner. There's a sadness in both of them that he doesn't understand, but he shares it, and he kneels beside them, planting a hand on each alien's shoulder. Speaker glares at him, but Partner smiles sadly.

"Thank you, Child."

Child nods, then gets to his feet, stepping away. Partner needs time with Speaker, and Child can grant her that with ease. He leaves them be, wrapped up in their pain, while he reaches for the strange new space in his chest. It's open, but cold and sharp in a way that he doesn't understand. He lets his mind brush over it, and Partner chokes on a sob behind him. He turns around, wide-eyed and stunned as what little is left of his rational mind makes the obvious connection. That space in his chest is the Galra. That thing inside of him is her. He's been… what? What happened?

"Child," Partner says holding a hand out to him. "Please, Child, come here."

He takes a few steps closer, encouraged when Speaker doesn't immediately lash out at him, her gaze reduced to cool judgment from the open hostility of earlier. He kneels beside them and, on instinct alone, slips off a glove as he reaches out to touch the bare skin at Partner's neck. She sighs, closing her eyes and leaning into him, and he feels a sense of peace and relaxation wash through him as well. It does little to mend his shattered soul, but it does soothe in a way that he'd never expected.

After a long moment, he draws his fingers back as Partner's forehead starts to wrinkle, knowing that he's taking more than he's giving. She opens her eyes, looking surprised, but her face softens. She leans in, her gloved hand resting on his cheek. "Thank you."

Child doesn't have the words to respond. There's only enough space in his mind to press a gentler feeling, a question toward her. A question of permanence. Of whether she will still be at his side in the morning.

"Forever, Child. For as long as we both still breathe."

The words are strange and resonant in his chest, and for all that they feel awkward and unfamiliar, they also feel right. Child nods, looking over and reaching out to squeeze Speaker's shoulder. He doesn't have the same connection with her, but he hopes his feelings make it through in his face.

"He's sorry he took me from you," Partner says softly, and Speaker's eyes go wide. "Sorry that you cannot share in our bond."

Speaker's eyes go wide. "What? But you said--"

"I know what I said, and I stand by it. But he's Human, Zheerun. How much do we even know about their race anyway?"

Speaker turns back to him, her eyes contemplative. She clasps her hand around Child's forearm, a gentle affirmation. "I trust that you shall care for her as I would?"

Child nods.

"Then I have no complaints. See to it that she is safe and protected and no harm will come to you by my hand."

He can tell that it's more blessing than Partner was expecting, and he nods again, deeply grateful. If this is to be his life, he wants Partner to be happy. And, in this moment, she is. It's all he can ask for anymore.

(The red voice in his head is screaming screaming screaming, but he can't hear it anymore. The space it used to fill is now taken up by something else, something harsher and colder, crueler than anything Child should ever have accepted. But his soul is shattered, and there's nothing else to be done.

He is Galra now.)

**Author's Note:**

> On the bright side, I don't think things could really get any _worse_ after this...? Though I suppose I should let my beta determine if this really is the lowest point of the fic.
> 
> [Come hang with me on tumblr!!](http://hollyandvice.tumblr.com/)


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